“Well, let it go at that, then. And suppose, in addition to a hundred a month to keep silent as to seeing me here, and what you have learned generally, I should give you—” He thrust his hand into an inside pocket and brought forth a long pocketbook. “Suppose I should give you, say two hundred dollars, cash?”
Alex caught a knee between his hands and leaned back against the wall.
“I’m not for sale,” he replied quietly.
The would-be briber thrust the book back into his pocket and sprang to his feet, purple with anger.
“Very well, my young saint,” he sneered, “stay where you are, then—till we’re good and ready to let you go!”
He strode to the door, Munson following him. “If he tries to get away,” Alex heard him add as he mounted his horse, “shoot him! I’ll protect you!”
“You are a young fool, all right,” Munson said, returning. “You’ve simply made it worse for yourself. You’ve sure now got to stay right here, indefinite.
“And, as he ordered,” the cowman added determinedly, “if you try to make a break-away of it, I’ll sure shoot—and shoot to kill! When I go into a thing, I put it through!”
Alex, however, had no intention of staying, whatever the risks, and when presently Munson, after assuring himself that the knots were secure, passed out, he immediately addressed himself to the task of making his escape. It did not look difficult at first sight, since both hands were free, and only one foot tied. But an energetic attempt to loosen the cleverly-tied slip-loop failed as completely as it had the night before. Likewise, strain as he could at the cot leg, he could not budge it, so firmly was it driven into the hard ground.
With something like despair Alex at last relinquished these endeavors, and turned to the problem of cutting the rope in some way. In the hope of finding a nail with which he might pick or fray the lariat apart, he made a thorough examination of the cot. There were nails, but they were driven in beyond hope of drawing with his fingers.